Page 7 of Twisted Empire: King's Gambit

A shiver creeps down my spine, cold and unnerving. I leap to my feet, the action leaving me dizzy and my stomach churning. Nothing feels broken or sore; no wounds or marks.

Thank God. I take a shaky breath and get to my feet, walking towards the door. But as I take a cautious step, the door swings open and my heart plummets to the pit of my stomach.

He walks in.

My eyes lock onto the jagged scar that slashes down the side of his face. A scar that should, in normal cases, have made him look ugly. But somehow, it only enhances his features.

He’s tall, broad and muscular under a perfectly tailored black suit. His hair, long, blonde and curled naturally in a way women pay for, frames piercing heterochromia eyes that could be charming in any other circumstance.

Those mismatched blue and green eyes settle on me, and the temperature in the room drops below zero.

“Awake at last, Gabriette,” he says, his voice tinged with a coldness that chills me to my core. “I wish the circumstances were better for our first meeting, but time is of the essence and we need to talk.”

I blanch at his words, dread curling inside of my gut. My mouth falls open as the realization hits me harder than I expected.

He just used my real name.

This guy is from the world I ran away from, the one my sister sacrificed her life for; the one I was supposed to leave behind. No one else knows my name here.

“If we needed to talk, you could have done the civilized thing and met me for coffee!” My voice shakes, my nerves barely contained. “Why am I here? Who are you?”

His eyes slightly widen with amusement at my words, then he chuckles at my discomfort and crosses his arms.

“My name is Mikhail Baranov, and I have business with you, Gabriette,” he says, the dangerous timbre of his voice sending a shiver up my spine.

Oh my fucking god, he’s Russian Bratva, he must be. I look at his tattooed hands, one bearing the snarling head of a tiger and the other a rose wrapped in barbed wire, and the sight of it scares me more than anything.

I haven’t been in that life for years. What business could he possibly have with me?

And what did my father do for the Russians to be at my doorstep?

“Business with me? I don’t … I don’t even know you,” I stammer, fear creeping deep into my belly because I know this man isn’t someone to trifle with. The grin on his face tells me everything I need to know.

“Hmm, where do I start?” he says, sauntering over to me with his hands in the pockets of his slacks. “You see, your father promised me a bride. Your sister decided she’d rather be dead than live up to that promise. Now I’m stuck with you as a second choice.”

Grief crashes over me like a tidal wave, threatening to pull me under in front of this stranger, but there’s no time to drown. Not here, not in front of this man; even if I want to burst out into tears.

“My sister is dead and you expect me to just step into her place?”

“That’s exactly what I expect,” he smirks, settling one hand in the pocket of his suit pants, his eyes predatory. “It’s either you do this, or everyone you love suffers. Is that what you want?”

His words hung in the air like a dark cloud, their weight heavy on my shoulders, making it hard to breathe. There’s no doubt in my mind he means them.

My world feels like it’s disintegrating around me. My sister’s dead, and now I’m captive to this terrifying man, but if there’s one thing Sophia has taught me, it’s to never show your fear.

“So, what? I say ‘I do’ and become a part of this twisted world again?” The words come out sharper, tinged with bitterness.

“Exactly.”

I can’t help but scoff at that arrogant word. Everything in me is screaming out for me to run away, to cower in front of this man because I have a feeling those tattooed hands have snuffed out more than a life or two.

“Why me when you could quite literally have your pick of any other mafia princess? I haven’t been in that life for over six years!” I explain with a scoff, but then I step back when he slowly walks over to me.

“I don’t give a fuck if you haven’t been part of this life, a Lombardi woman was promised to me by your father, and I expect my bride to come willingly,” he says, literally spitting daggers at me, expecting me to cower, but something in what he just said gets my attention.

He needs a Lombardi woman; if Sophia is dead, then that only leaves me. We have no other blood ties.

“What happens if I say no?”

---